


with a little strength, i'll never let you down

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23164501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: “It is very nice to hold my cat," Caleb explains, as Frumpkin stands up and plods around Caduceus’ injured leg, settling into his lap. "He is very soft and warm, and will not claw you like most other cats, and he is just the right size to hold--"“Those things all appear to be true," Caduceus gives Frumpkin a scratch between the ears. “But will you be comforted enough just experiencing being held through his eyes?”***Caduceus ponders life and death and his motivations with Caleb after another rough battle. Frumpkin helps Caleb show the cards he's keeping close to his chest. Canon-compliant/adjacent to Campaign 2, Episode 48.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay & Frumpkin, Caduceus Clay/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 13
Kudos: 187





	with a little strength, i'll never let you down

**Author's Note:**

> [title inspiration](https://open.spotify.com/track/1XCpzvtHjANEBhS9a4xqQ2?si=q0ae601mQJuIBASDn6NyzA) (looped a lot of haim working on this final draft)
> 
> meant to take place en route from nicodranas to felderwin. as warned in the tags, a fair chunk of this fic does involve death and battle injuries.

At first, death felt familiar to Caduceus.

Not entirely like a friend, as he had read in a tome once, but not a stranger, either, being plunged into darkness deeper than sleep for the first time. There was a lapse in his memory after taking too many hits in battle; he wasn’t sure where he was at first, until he felt a faint awareness of the Wildmother’s warmth--maybe he had just fallen into a deeper state of meditation than intended. But then the warmth fell away, and he started to blink back himself into life, looking into the face of a concerned blue tiefling. 

It had been difficult to reconcile, surrounded by death in the mountains, finding solace and purpose in it. But facing it himself? It was reassuring to have felt the warmth of the Wildmother there, waiting for him, but he was quick to recognize that he was not yet ready for the journey itself.

(He had felt of weaker faith at first, being scared of the permanence of a topic so commonplace to him, but a few weeks of meditating under the stars at sea had reassured him that the Wildmother had forgiven him.)

Caduceus has just woken up from another one of those moments and can’t help smiling a little reflexively at the way novelty and mundanity both seem to mingle with each other. He’s lying face-down, blades of grass the first to greet him as he shifts, his field of vision expanding to the rest of his traveling companions. He watches Fjord fire two blasts of vibrant green energy at a rocky glaive-wielding giant, which, when hit, roars and shrinks slightly, taking on a bluer, demonic form with small horns protruding from its forehead, eyes blazing orange at its attacker. Beau airms a strike at the monster’s back with her staff, but it doesn’t seem to be fazed, and she raises her bracer-bound forearms in defense as it looks between the two. Caduceus hauls himself up to stand, but his vision goes spinning as he tries, head aching, along with a sharp, shooting pain in his leg. He pitches forward and catches himself on his forearms; he grits his teeth and twists to look at his leg, a chunk of his own flesh clawed away deeply to reveal muscle and bone beneath. 

With a deep breath, he wills his eyes closed. Trying to meditate, especially when feeling close to death, almost feels like giving in.

Almost.

When he opens his eyes again, the ache in his head has dulled, and the wound in his leg, while still raw and bloody, feels a fraction shallower than before. He looks to Fjord and Beau, but then hears a gurgling cough behind him; Caleb is on his knees and clutching at his side, blood streaming past his fingers. 

"I'm sorry," Caduceus murmurs to the grass as he tears a few fistfuls out of the earth, heaving himself in Caleb’s direction. "There's more of you all than there is of us." 

"Mister Caleb," Caduceus pants, a smile curling at his lip when he reaches Caleb’s side. "You look like you need a little help." Caleb is half keeled over, grabbing at his wound with both hands now, blue eyes wide and unfocused, pupils blown. He nods, and then vomits into a small pile in front of him.

Caduceus takes that as a yes. He reaches up and gently tries to push a hand between Caleb’s fingers; he has take a moment to hoist himself into a sitting position beside Caleb, hushing him kindly as he pushes with a little more force at Caleb’s wound, prying one hand away, earning himself a hearty groan from Caleb. He places his hand on Caleb's bloody wound, and Caleb clasps Caduceus’ hand to his stomach like a vice, staring at him now, his breath fast and shallow. Caduceus’ eyelids fall again, and his forehead wrinkles just slightly as he focuses on the gaping, hot sensation under his palm. He feels the wound start to close and pulls away a moment later; the blood has slowed from a gush to a meandering ooze, skin still raw but much closer to scabbing over than its previously life-threatening state, skin already starting to go purple and yellow with bruising around the edges.

"Mister Clay," Caleb exhales, "You save my life yet again." His eyes lingers on Caduceus for a second, and then he looks back to the enemy, lifting his arm like an weary marionette. There’s a spark of life in the way he waves his hand, three lines of fire shooting out from the fingertips of his glove. Two beams arc wide, but the third hits, earning a roar of pain from the demon. It whips around toward Caleb, but Yasha is quicker to follow, cleaving a strike through its head. The monster staggers, then crumples, hit with an arrow in the head from Nott. Caleb sighs with a small measure of relief, letting his arm drop; it hits Caduceus' forearm, whose hand he had still clutching to his stomach. He blinks repeatedly at the sight, then looks to Caduceus, tilting his head with curiosity as he lifts his hand away.

"I ought to apologize, but...you are smiling?"

"Ah," Caduceus raises his eyebrows just so, taking stock of the feeling of the small pull at his lips. He brings his hand back to his side. "Creature of habit, I suppose." Caduceus’ features contort in a rare divergence from his usual serene state as he slumps forward onto Caleb's shoulder the moment after, his larger frame knocking a lithe and injured Caleb back onto his elbows.

"It got my leg," He grunts. "I can help the others feel a little better if they need it, but I’m close to my limit. Jester might be able to help.”

"Scheiße," Caleb whispers, and gingerly begins to rummage in his nearest pocket for a piece of wire. Caduceus' memory is in and out over the next hour, Jester rushing over, pain shooting up into his thigh as he is stood up and walked back to the cart by Yasha, passively listening but not quite putting words together as the group looks for a place to camp, nodding off under the gentle rustling of wheels traversing a well-beaten path.

He wakes in the middle of night, instinctively clutching at his leg. It’s bandaged and sore, but hurts far less than it did earlier. He lies back and looks up; most stars are obscured by the cover of branches and leaves, but the distant glints and glimmers of a largely familiar sky help him relax. Then, a slightly brighter light catches his eyes; Caleb's back is to him, outlined faintly with yellow light. Caduceus quietly gets up, stepping around his sleeping comrades. He winces as he sits down a foot or so away from Caleb’s right.

"Go back to sleep," Caleb tells him in a quiet, firm voice. There’s an orb of light floating in front of his chest, illuminating a patch of grass, then some closer cover of ferns and silhouettes of thick trees trunks, but the light fails to stretch beyond them.

“No, I ought to pull my weight,” Caduceus responds, stretching his injured leg out in front of him, his toes almost touching the boundary of the protective bubble they’re in. “Spot anything interesting out there?”

"I cannot see in the dark," Caleb responds simply, "And Beauregard didn't leave me her special goggles, so I am listening instead."

Caduceus lets his eyelids fall, inclining his head towards the boundary. He waits a moment, adjusting to the breathing and soft snores of his sleeping companions, and catches a faint rustling that comes and goes--likely just a raccoon or fox looking for a snack. He opens his eyes again.

"I apologise for the interruption." Caleb hums a low noise in his throat; Frumpkin slips from his shoulders and pads around, curling up against Caduceus' bandaged shin.

"I am the one who should be apologising," Caleb says after Frumpkin settles down. "I got too close during that fight, and you suffered for it."

"We both got a little too close during that fight." Caduceus counters evenly. "Perhaps we're getting brave." Caleb sighs; the words that follow have a faint sadness in them.

"A novel idea. Are you excited by that prospect, Mister Clay?"

"Huh. I'm not sure. If it helps me save the Blooming Grove, I ought to be proud of my growth...but I haven’t found any answers yet.”

"Ja, you might not want to reflect on that," Caleb cracks a small grin. "The Nein's path is a little--" He plots a map of zig-zags and overlapping loops in the air, punctuating the final dot with a soft pop of his lips.

"Yeah," Caduceus attempts to smile, but it doesn’t last. "It's not as straightforward as I hoped."

“We all are a bit selfish here; the interests of one or two of us may end up taking precedence other that of another, by fate or accident or both. You were baptized by fire and saltwater and much more by us. You have been waiting a decade for answers, no?” There is a certain gravity to Caleb’s voice, a dare in his eyes. “Are we butterflies worth chasing, so to speak?" Caduceus’ shoulders fall as he exhales, turning over the question in his head.

"I’m young, ish, for my age,” Caduceus reasons. “A decade to me is not as fast as it is to an elf, I imagine. I was only waiting before I met you all; _you_ made me act. That must have been some kind of sign.”

"But you've nearly died!” Caleb emphasizes. “Does that not worry you? Does it not make you struggle with your faith?"

“Less so, after you gave me this gift," Caduceus fingers the periapt around his neck. “My faith has proven itself sturdy. Solid, like a rock--like a tombstone,” he adds, smile curling at his lip.

“Even though tombstones break down?”

“By water, by moss--you can’t expect me to be mad about nature reclaiming nature.”

Caleb pushes a hand through his hair, at a loss. “I suppose not.”

"...I've always been pretty frank, but you seem to be more distraught than I am, Caleb."

"That’s a bingo," Caleb exhales, looking to Frumpkin instinctively. The familiar's ears perk up, but he stays by Caduceus' side as Caleb summons another sphere of light, rolling it between his palms. "I do not enjoy the idea of being brave. I would much rather be a coward.” He squeezes the ball in his hands as he tries to calm himself, the particles of light dissipating with the force of the action, reforming into a ball as he starts to expand on his thoughts.

“The powers I can control--they are terrifying, if kept unchecked. I am walking a delicate line between understanding the arcane and being overcome by it, and hoping that I don't fall prey to the latter."

"You seem like you're doing a good job of not doing that," Caduceus suggests in a tone of voice that he hopes doesn’t sound patronizing; he remembers the glassy look he had seen in Caleb’s eyes when he had last used a strong fire-based spell, on the pirate ship.

“I have done unspeakable things in the past," Caleb’s voice drops to a whisper. "I need to not repeat them."

Caduceus looks out and listens to the occasional chirp of the crickets outside as his companion absentmindedly itches at the bandages on his arms. He reaches forward after lending a few uninterrupted minutes to Caleb, gently stroking Frumpkin’s tail.

“If I’ve gleaned enough from my travels, most people in your position would like a hug right now,” Caduceus offers. “But I think you’d prefer if I kept petting your cat.”

“It is very nice to hold my cat," Caleb explains, eager to change the subject as Frumpkin stands up and plods around Caduceus’ injured leg, settling into his lap. "He is very soft and warm, and will not claw you like most other cats, and he is just the right size to hold--"

“Those things all appear to be true," Caduceus gives Frumpkin a scratch between the ears, a purr vibrating loudly in the familiar's chest as he flops over onto his back, front paws curled up, exposing his fluffy belly. “Will you be comforted enough just experiencing it through his eyes?” Caleb makes a pained noise like a floorboard creaking in the middle of the night, avoiding Caduceus’ gaze.

"All of you, you are so unbelievably direct," He mutters. "Must you ask when you already know the answer?"

“Guilty as charged,” Caduceus concedes, ruffling Frumpkin’s fur, who strikes and grasps at his wrists with a meow; his claws prick at Caduceus’ skin, but don’t draw blood, which Caduceus presumes was a calculated move. “I’m a healer; I know physical touch works better than medicine in certain situations.”

“You must be awfully gullible, believing such things,” Caleb gripes, but still shifts himself closer to Caduceus. After a pause, he leans his head against his shoulder. It feels briefly tense, but Caduceus soon feels the dim reverberation of the deep, almost meditative breaths coming from Caleb, his hair tickling his neck. Caduceus’ hand is resting on his own knee; he turns it palm-up, eyes half-closed as Caleb lightly traces the fleshier curve near the base of his thumb, starting to nod off himself.

“Okay, back to bed with you,” Caleb instructs under his breath, his hand on Caduceus' back as he helps lay him down on his good side; Caduceus, conscious of his size, draws his knees a little closer to his chest.

Caduceus takes his time to stir in the morning, stretching and poking his foot through the magic sphere, retracting it when he feels the cool morning dew on his heel, the movement triggering an fresh set of aches. He groans, but tries to temper it, knowing he should start cooking for the group; he doesn’t mind it, and he’ll probably still enjoy the process, even if he’s limping. Winking an eye open, he turns his head, pressing his face into something soft--Frumpkin, curled up beside his cheek. Frumpkin blinks at him, batting a paw at his nose.

“Hey buddy,” Caduceus smiles. “Want to help me make breakfast?”

Frumpkin alternates between perching on Caduceus’ shoulder and weaving between his ankles as he forages within visibility of the protective bubble, mostly looking for mushrooms and greens for himself, as the rest of the group had bought a few days’ worth of salted meats at the last town. After setting up his tea kettle above a bundle of kindling and larger branches closer to the camp, a bolt of flame shoots out from behind the barrier, sparking a small fire underneath. Caduceus grins.

“I know he can hear me,” He comments to Frumpkin. “But tell Caleb he’s welcome to join me for tea.”

**Author's Note:**

> i do not have much D&D playing experience under my belt but i had them fighting an [oni](https://www.dndbeyond.com/monsters/oni)!
> 
> thank you for reading, frumpkin is the goodest boy


End file.
